


Alive, Alive

by octoberfeeling



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: F/M, Mild Angst, but not really because i don't feel like writing real angst, they can kiss!!!, we love smoochin!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 23:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20105206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octoberfeeling/pseuds/octoberfeeling
Summary: “Jane,” whispered Gansey in reverent warning as Blue gently caressed his cheek, daring to brush the pad of her thumb over his lower lip as he spoke. “We can’t… we just don’t know yet.”





	Alive, Alive

“Jane,” whispered Gansey in reverent warning as Blue gently caressed his cheek, daring to brush the pad of her thumb over his lower lip as he spoke. “We can’t… we just don’t  _ know _ yet.”

This was as much a warning to himself as it was to Blue, if not more, she knew. In the late afternoon light streaming through the windows that made up one entire wall of the created apartment in Monmouth Manufacturing, Gansey’s hazel eyes lit up like liquid gold, melting and swirling with aching desire, along with the heavy apprehension both he and Blue had been carrying ever since Gansey’s Second Death and Resurrection.

Sighing, Blue reluctantly moved her hand away from Gansey’s face and let it drop heavily onto the tangled mess of sheets below them. Gansey reached up and brushed the skin of her neck, feather light, in silent worship of any contact they could possibly maintain. His fingertips tickled down the length of Blue’s arm, until finally they pressed individually into each corresponding pad of her own fingers where their hands lay together between the two of them.

Blue looked back up into Gansey’s face, took in the nonsensical beauty of his sad smile, and once again cursed the prediction made for her since childhood.

_ If you kiss your true love, he will die. _ What complete and utter unfair bullshit. And hadn’t they already moved past that part?

According to the women of 300 Fox Way, maybe they had. Each of them had given her an entirely new prediction just a few days after the Event. She had consulted each of them and had received at least thirteen different prophecies about what lay before her. None of them were the same, and none of them had anything to do with kisses of death. Some of them were seemingly random and vague, similar to the ones given to visitors passing through the wild house of psychics. Blue could hardly remember most of these. One of them had been something about a dress she had begun to draw up a pattern for in her spare time.

Others, namely those from the women she was most attached to, had carved out a space in her gut that felt a lot like yearning. A lot like  _ something more.  _ Calla had placed a hand on the top of Blue’s head, closed her eyes for a moment, and said, “Pack light. And keep that stupid switch blade on you.” Then she promptly huffed and walked into the kitchen to begin making herself a drink. Jimi had done a palm reading for her and instead of explaining what it was that she had seen, just beamed and enveloped Blue in a near-suffocating embrace.

Consulting Orla had been truly mortifying and nearly unbearable. Blue had desperately wanted to smack her multiple times, but she refrained only because she knew how important it would be to get as many readings as possible. She had to be sure. Orla’s conclusion seemed to be that not only was kissing now safe, but that there was much more than just that in Blue’s future. 

“Turns out psychic energy isn’t the only thing your hands are capable of elevating,” Orla had said with a saccharine voice and a sickening wink. Blue hated her. But her hatred of her cousin was outweighed by the shivering thrill she felt at the thought of  _ more than kissing _ .

During her reading with Maura, despite receiving positive readings from everyone thus far, Blue had been so afraid that nothing would change, that she nearly left the reading room when she chose her first card and it had been the Page of Cups. Maura placed a calming hand on her shoulder, a reminder that this deck knew her, that the Page of Cups was its way of saying, “Hello Blue, it’s good to see you again.”

Hands shaking slightly, Blue drew her second card: the Three of Wands. She heard Calla’s voice in her head saying, “Pack light.” She imagined far off places and adventuring with Gansey and her heart sang.  _ Gansey. _ Would the next card reveal something about his fate, and whether she had any control over it? She held her breath and chose a third card from the deck in her mother’s hands.  _ Swick. _ She placed it on the table. The Lovers. She sighed, uncertain. It felt like another acknowledgement; the deck saying, “Oh, I know about him. Here you both are.” She wanted more than acknowledgement. Sitting here with her mother, after everything in the past year, after her lifelong prophecy had finally been tragically fulfilled, this felt like the moment for something bigger. 

_ Something more. Something more. Something more.  _ It spiraled through her like a hurricane, a constant mantra. Maura must have sensed this internal chaos, because she placed both her hands over both of Blue’s on the table between them and gently suggested, “How about one more, Blue girl, hmm?”

“Okay.” On an inhale, Blue took her final card between her fingertips.  _ Swick _ . On the tabletop in front of her was The Moon, reversed. She released the breath she had been holding. The reversed Moon meant letting go of anxiety and fear. This was exactly what she needed, this confirmation that things were alright now. Things were going to be alright. She could almost believe this.

“I think you may need to speak to The Boy,” Maura had said at the end of the reading, her eyes shining with her own version of the same relief Blue felt.

It had been four days, and here they were again, lying together on top of these familiar unkempt sheets, and she had not yet spoken to The Boy about any of the readings. She couldn’t say why, exactly, but it may have had something to do with the violent shiver of nerves that ran through her when she recalled Orla’s reading.

“Where’d you go, sweet love?” Gansey’s honeyed murmur eased her back into the present moment, and she realized that while she had been inside her head, Gansey’s hands had been all over that same head, gently removing approximately 27 clips from it. Now he set the last of them onto the pillow between them, and began to card his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be ensconced in the mundane magic of this feeling for a moment, then she took Gansey’s hand in her own and tried to sit up as gracefully as possible, instead nearly kicking Gansey’s wire-frames off of his face with one of her socked feet.

“Gansey,” she said, suddenly all business as soon as she had righted herself.

“Jane,” he replied, a question on his tongue and concern in his eyes. He sat himself up with far more grace than Blue had managed.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Alright…”

“I talked to Orla.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“And Calla and Maura and Jimi and several other psychics that were floating around the house.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. About -- about us.”

“ _ Oh. _ ”

“Mhmm.”

“And?”

“I think… I think we might be okay.”

“...Okay, Blue?”

The use of her given name was what convinced her to spit out, “Ithinkitmightbesafeforustokissnow.”

Gansey, because he understood the language of Blue, did not ask for the English translation of this statement. Instead, he lifted their hands from where they were still clasped together between them. He disentangled their fingers and manipulated Blue’s until they were all splayed out in front of his own face.

“How sure can we be?” he whispered, practically inaudible, looking at her through a perfectly disheveled curtain of hair.

Blue inhaled sharply as Gansey brought only the tip of her pinky finger to his lips, not touching but close enough that all of her nerve endings were suddenly concentrated on his warm breath surrounding that one fingertip. “About ninety percent. I think.”

He said, “I like those odds,” and it felt to Blue like he offered his entire soul to her as lips met single fingertip.

They both shuddered.

Gansey lived.

It was only her pinky finger, though, and still uncertainty shrouded them both and shut out the rest of reality. His lips touched the tip of her ring finger, and Blue felt certain neither of them would ever breathe again.

Gansey lived.

Middle, index, thumb.

Gansey lived.

He went on living and Blue went on burning as he brushed his lips upon each of the lines on her palm; heart, head, fate and sun, and finally her life line. Her hand was a flame.

Gansey took his time risking his life for the inside of her wrist. His unreasonable mouth rested there for an entire trip around the sun, and still Blue had not had enough time to prepare for how her heart soared when he moved upwards, surprising her with a trail of light, quick caresses up the length of her arm and pausing at her shoulder.

Blue had never before considered the distance between one’s shoulder and one’s mouth, but suddenly the distance was at once treacherously too short and infuriatingly far. The thought consumed her like wildfire.

Kisses like raindrops landed on Blue’s collarbone, neck, and jaw. She hoped against hope that if they survived this, these areas would be flooded with attention when she was in a state of mind to thoroughly enjoy it.

She hadn’t realized she was crying until Gansey kissed her cheek and his lips met tears there.

“Blue?” Gansey’s eyes were shining, too, joyful and solemn all at once.

“I’m scared, Gansey.”

“Me, too.”

“I want it too much. What if it still isn’t safe?”

“Safe as life, darling Blue.”

Blue laughed breathily in spite of herself, in spite of everything. “Safe as life.”

Before she had a chance to keep overthinking, to speak another word, Gansey swept in toward her and their lips crashed together with far less ceremony than the situation warranted.

...

Gansey lived. Gansey  _ lived. _

Lips had met and here was Gansey, in front of Blue, eyes open, still breathing.

Blue all but collapsed into Gansey’s chest and as she wrapped her arms as tightly as she could manage around his waist, she listened for his heart. It sounded like ten hummingbirds, but it was beating!

Gansey was alive!

Now they were both crying. Crying and laughing and kissing. Kissing kissing kissing.

It was clumsy and messy and perfect. And alive, so alive.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!! I'm back and better than ever with a brand new hyperfixation!! I have so many ideas for fics for TRC and I'm so excited to get to as many of them as possible. Shout out to my pals in the screaming about dead welsh kings discord server for betaing this work and hyping me up enough for me to finish writing it!
> 
> Kudos are appreciated, comments make my heart sing! I love you for reading this!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as octoberparrish. <3


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